Free Elvis And The Memphis Mambo Murders by Peggy Webb

Lovie.”
    â€œSince we’re here, we might as well go down the street to the tattoo parlor. We could get something cute and sassy to put on our hips. Maybe a little red devil with a halo. What do you think?”
    â€œI think you’re losing it. Come on.”
    â€œWhat’s your hurry? Let’s have some fun. Let’s stop at the Rum Boogie Café and have a Long Island Ice Tea.” Made with vodka, gin, rum, tequila, and Lord knows what else.
    After the night and morning I’ve had, if I have a drink with that much alcohol in it, you might as well put me in a box and ship me back home to Eternal Rest. It’s the best funeral home in Mississippi, even if my uncle does own it, and I sound like I’m bragging. But I’m not even sure Uncle Charlie’s embalming skills could put some color back in my cheeks.
    â€œListen, Lovie. You stay here and have a Long Island Ice Tea if you want to, but I’m going back to the hotel and break into Grayson’s room.” He’s somewhere on Beale Street with his new squeeze, and we’ll never get a better chance.
    â€œNow you’re singing my song. Crime is the only thing that can make me leave off liquor.” Lovie whips out her cell phone and punches in numbers.
    â€œWho are you calling?”
    â€œIf we’re going to cross crime tape, we need disguises and we need a diversion.” Her connection goes through. “Bobby? I need a favor.”
    I start shaking my head and saying, “No, I don’t want to involve Bobby.” Naturally, she ignores me. When has Lovie ever listened to the voice of reason? Not that I’m always right. And there have been a few times (well, a lot, really) when I haven’t used my own better judgment. Still, compared to Lovie, I’m a fount of discretion and wisdom.
    â€œI need you and Fayrene to get in that crowd waiting for this morning’s duck parade and create a ruckus. A big one.”
    Now that Lovie’s pulled Fayrene into the investigation, Mama won’t be far behind. I might as well find the Peabody’s oven and stick my head in.
    â€œYep, that sounds good, Bobby. And I don’t want you asking questions. ’Bye, now.”
    Good grief. Only she and Mama can get by with such high-handed behavior.
    â€œWhat sounds good?”
    â€œYou don’t want to know.”
    Holy cow. I’ll bet it’s criminal.
    â€œWhy do we need a diversion, Lovie?”
    â€œSo we can steal maid’s uniforms.”
    â€œThat ranks right up there with your hair-brained scheme to get Texas Elvis up in the hot air balloon, and we all know how that turned out.” Elvis impersonator fiasco, and that’s all I’m saying about that.
    â€œOkay, Callie. You tell me how we’re going to find a costume shop and get back here in time to ransack Grayson’s room before he returns from his morning outing. We might as well send him a letter of intent.”
    She has a point, even if I don’t like it. “Forget ransacking, Lovie. We’re just going to look. ”
    â€œYou look, I’ll pillage and plunder.”
    She’s kidding. I hope.
    Now that she’s up to no good, Lovie trots along like somebody’s set Memphis on fire and she has the only bucket of water. I try to keep up with her, but Elvis is determined to mark every light pole between Beale Street and the hotel.
    Finally the Peabody comes into view, and Lovie whips out her phone again. “We’re on the approach, Bobby. Get ready to rumble.”
    That sounds like something I don’t want to be involved in. “What does that mean, Lovie?”
    â€œTrust me. In a few minutes, this is all going down. Wait for my signal.”
    â€œI’m not going to stand here and argue with a criminal type,” I paraphrase Richard Erdman to Dick Powell in Cry Danger.
    Lovie shoots me a jump in the lake sign—to put a nice spin on it.

Elvis’ Opinion